Fabrics from the Forest

text and some photos by Ino Manalo

The island of Borneo is so vast that it can swallow up the entire area of the Philippines with room to spare. This enormous land mass is divided into four territories: Sarawak and Sabah which belong to Malaysia, Kalimantan which is part of Indonesia, and the Sultanate of Brunei. Borneo is South East Asia’s essential green lung with the largest expanse of tropical rain forest left in this part of the planet. Sadly, this critical resource is often under threat. Annually, countless trees are being cut down for lumber and to make way for new towns.

With this alarming destruction of habitat, many plants and animals are disappearing - taking their precious genes with them. Likewise, the Bornean peoples that have, for centuries, mastered the gentle art of living in harmony with the forest are losing their indigenous knowledge, victims of the forgetfulness that is part of the spell cast by modern civilization.

Walking around Kuching, Sarawak’s capital, I was struck by the fact that there are yet sections where one feels the presence of the factors which have always defined Borneo life: the river and the jungle. Amidst the speeding cars and ritzy fast food establishments are huge trees rising majestically above multistoried apartment blocks. Parks with broad lawns seem almost half wild, as if the luxuriant tropical growth had paused briefly for a dalliance with modernity. It is tempting to pretend that contemporary life can coexist with the primeval.

Among Kuching’s main attractions is a museum which a popular guidebook has described as among the best in the region. The crowded exhibits are remnants of a colonial era. They are suffused with a perspective which views the products of Sarawak’s many traditional communities as mere examples illustrating the idea of the primitive. The notion that the inhabitants of this forested realm could weave or sculpt fascinating pieces worthy of careful study would only arise long after the museum had been set-up.

Not too far away is a small compact district of ancient riverside shophouses that had been the center of trade for generations. At present, these buildings host chic cafes as well as tourist establishments. One of the shophouses has been converted into an elegant gallery featuring the works of local artists. On the top floor is the store filled with the fashionable creations of my friend, Edric Ong. Wooden armoires hold innovative shirts and blouses. Racks display the boutique’s signature pieces: lovely silk shawls where the colors of the earth intermingle.

Architect – turned couturier – turned community development worker, Edric Ong is truly a Sarawak institution. I first met this remarkable man during a conference ran by the Madras Craft Foundation in India. We were both invited to speak about our projects on crafts. I made a presentation on the fiesta of Angono while Edric spoke on the weaving program that he was involved in with a group of women living in the forests of Sarawak.

My new-found Malaysian friend would eventually invite me to his hometown. Every other year, Edric, with the help of the members of the Atelier Sarawak , organizes the WEFT Forum which is a symposium for eco- fabrics. Speakers come from all over to share information about weaving practices which employed time-honored techniques along with organic dyes and fibers. It was truly a joy to spend whole afternoons just listening to people discussing their images of and insights into a galaxy of textiles.

Since any appreciation of fabrics is inevitably intertwined with garments, it was not surprising that the centerpiece of the symposium was a fashion show. The WEFT Forum production was a highlight of the Kuching social season. Everyone turned up to watch designers from Thailand, India, the Philippines, Japan, and Korea transform the textiles that had been the erstwhile subjects of academic dissertations into living creations walking down the ramp.

What truly made my Borneo visit unforgettable was a brief journey into the heart of the jungle. After listening to lectures about the loom traditions of Sarawak in the air-conditioned comfort of the seminar room, it was a mind-bending experience to find myself on a boat, gliding down the river surrounded by nothing but miles of impenetrable foliage in all directions. What dangers and treasures lay beneath leaf upon leaf, bough upon bough?

As a child, I had read an abbreviated version of an Armstrong Sperry novel about how a boy named Chad travelled through the wilderness to meet up with his explorer father. I have been looking for the complete book ever since. I was mesmerized by one of the illustrations (also done by Sperry) which depicted the young hero lost among gargantuan trees and strange plants with tall crest-like blossoms. I suppose this image was forever more fixed in my mind, a tantalizing prototype of the splendors of the tropics. Decades later, this prototype would finally come to teeming life in Sarawak.

One of the groups that Edric had been working with dwelt in what is called a longhouse. This is a series of residential units made of bamboo and thatch that are all strung together by a lengthy corridor. The entire village lived as one enormous family in a single abode which they graciously shared with us for a few days. Edric was helping the longhouse residents source raw materials as well as find markets for their products. He has been utilizing their traditional weaving for his fashion creations as well as incorporating ancient patterns into new designs. He has also conducted researches on the motifs.

During the day we watched crafts demonstrations, trekked through the forest, or swam in the nearby river. In the evenings, our hosts entertained us with stories as well as songs and dances accompanied by the music of gongs. I learned that women would dream about the patterns that they wove into their fabrics. While preparing for bed in one of the longhouse enclosures, I thought: What luminous cloths were yet being imagined as the evening progressed?

When it came to swimming, I must admit that the idea was bruited about of simply doing away with the last shreds of modesty. After all, we were in the very lap of Nature herself. Who would care? Happily, the more level headed among us were able to appeal to our sense of responsibility, noting that our shocking attempts at sylvan emancipation may very well hasten the demise of endangered species.

The issue of attire having been dealt with, we gave up ourselves to fluvial pursuits. We were children again: splashing, laughing, diving for bright pebbles. I floated on my back and looked up at the sky. It was a field of blue edged by the emerald of leaves. I recall thinking: this is how the heavens must have looked to our ancestors too, long ago as they drifted in the embrace of a primordial forest stream.

After our swim, I watched an old woman make a mat, amazed at how deftly her fingers interlaced the pandan strips. How effortlessly she produced decorations so subtle that they only emerged when the mat was held at a certain angle. Then it occurred to me that the almost imperceptible motif she was creating was akin to the effect of light falling on the rippling surface of the river. What a highly evolved aesthetic sensibility one must have to discern the intricacies of sunshine and water. What unimaginable expertise it must take to replicate this fluid, protean imagery with fiber.

Edric always stresses in his talks that he is only a facilitator. Many of his creations are rooted in the labors and aspirations of Sarawak’s traditional communities whose sources of knowledge come from deep within the viridian womb of Borneo. One can only pray that future generations may still be given the blessing of knowing how much more there is waiting in the quiet places of the rain forest.